"Hmm?"
"Did you read the note?"
"No," she answers a little too quickly, tucking her legs under her. Eventually, she lowers her book. "Fine, I admit. I read the note. What did he mean by ‘moments’?"
"Something romantic."
"I figured that much out. Care to elaborate?"
I'm tempted to say no for several reasons, one being that she deserves to be teased for being nosy. The chief reason though, is that the experience was of a sexual nature. Sienna is seventeen; she's not a kid anymore, and we've always been close. If I censor my story enough….
"Well—" I begin, but Sienna holds out her hand, jumping down from the ottoman.
"Hold it."
"What?"
"This is girl talk. Girl talk requires nail painting."
Without disputing her claim, I follow her to the bathroom where we keep our collection of nail polish. It's been our tradition for years. Even before we lost our parents, I made it a point to spend quality time with my siblings. I used to stop by my parents' house once a week for dinner, and Sienna and I often did our nails after dessert while talking. When she's old enough, we'll upgrade to wine.
Back in the living room, armed with two shades of nail polish, I throw a large towel over the floor, so we don't accidentally stain the carpet. I type on my phone quickly, thanking Christopher for the flowers, and keep the phone nearby in case he answers.
Between doing our toes, I recount today's events—omitting the orgasm and the preceding sexy time, reducing the experience to a kiss—and everything he made me feel.
"Wow, he knows how to lay on the roma
nce," Sienna says with appreciation. "Guys at my school think it's romantic if they don't ignore you while they’re with their buddies."
"To be fair, guys are pretty dumb when they're your age," I comfort her.
"Yeah, somehow I doubt all of them reach Christopher’s level of swoonworthiness even when they're older."
I merely smile because I can't contradict her. My dating experience for the past ten years confirms her doubt.
"So, does Christopher have a younger brother? Like way younger?"
"He does—Hang on. Why do you ask?"
"If any of them is looking to date, I volunteer."
"They're not that young," I explain. "Let’s finish here. I have to go to bed. Long day tomorrow. I'm going to the store to buy some baking supplies. Do you want me to buy you anything?"
"Nah, I'm good."
We focus on each other's toes for the next few minutes. We're both pros at this, but it still requires concentration; otherwise we'll look as if Chloe "helped" us. After we finish applying the second layer, we stretch our legs, wiggling our toes before leaving them to dry.
"Victoria?"
"Yeah."
"You're doing a great job taking care of us."
"Thank you."
"I never told Mom and Dad that. I took it for granted." Her voice wavers, but she shakes her head, as if the gesture is enough to push the sad thoughts away. "So I wanted to tell you. If you want to date Christopher, I think that’s a great idea. I’m sure Lucas and Chloe think so too."
Shifting next to her, I cover her hand with mine, squeezing it reassuringly. I once asked Mom why she wanted so many kids. She said she'd been an only child and often wished she'd had at least a sister, and that she felt having one would’ve been like living with your best friend. As Sienna and I admire our toes, proud of our workmanship, I can't help thinking how right Mom was.